All the new students had gathered in the assembly field. The atmosphere was buzzing. Every student at Mediterania High School had claimed a spot to watch the various extracurricular activities being presented.
The series of events had already taken place, and now it was time for the closing event: a cultural arts performance.
The new students who had prepared themselves showed off their talents onstage.
Diandra was busy getting herself ready. Vita was currently examining Diandra's appearance from head to toe.
Diandra, who usually wore her hair in a ponytail, had let her long hair fall loose. Vita applied a little lip tint because Diandra didn't like makeup. She was too lazy to put anything on her face. To her, looking natural was more than enough.
"Ugh, enough already, Vit. It's making me uncomfortable having you fuss over me like this," she complained, already feeling irritated.
"Just be quiet and stop complaining. I'm done anyway," Vita shot back as she put away her makeup supplies.
"I'm not performing in a concert. Why do I have to get all dressed up?"
"Hey, look over there!!" Vita pointed carelessly.
Diandra narrowed her eyes. She could tell Vita was planning something. Vita raised and lowered both eyebrows. Curious, Diandra followed the direction of Vita's finger.
Vita took a picture of Diandra. The moment Diandra realized it, her eyes went wide.
"You took my picture, Vit?"
Vita grinned cheesily. "Yep. Here, look at your face!"
"Ugh, you're so annoying! Why did you take it when my hand was covering my nose? People are gonna think I was picking my nose. Delete it—it's ugly!" Dian protested.
"Tsk, no way. It's good. You have such a photogenic face, you know? Even if you were picking your nose, you'd still look pretty."
"You have such a gross mind. How could anyone look pretty while picking their nose?"
"It happens!"
"You've actually seen someone?"
"Yep!"
"Who?"
"You!" Vita shrieked, immediately slipping her phone into her pocket.
"Vita is the worst!" Diandra snapped, annoyed, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her back on her.
"Aww, someone's sulking. You look ugly when you do that, you know!"
"Oh yeah? Take this!" Diandra shot back, tickling Vita.
"Dian, that tickles!" Vita tried to hold Diandra's hands back, but Diandra kept tickling her.
"Okay, everyone, we only have one performer left. She is Diandra Adelia from Tuna Bangsa Junior High School."
Diandra and Vita stopped their tickle fight and exchanged a look.
"Dian, it's your turn!" Vita quickly smoothed Diandra's hair.
"You got this, Dian!"
Diandra inhaled and slowly exhaled. "Okay! I'm ready!"
Diandra immediately stepped forward and climbed onto the stage. Every eye turned toward her. Some of the boys whistled enthusiastically and shouted cheesy comments.
"She is gorgeous!"
"Damn, she's pretty."
"My future girlfriend!"
Diandra only gave them a sweet smile.
"I can't take it!"
"Oh, I'm falling for her."
"Your smile melts my world."
Diandra merely smiled at the cheers from the boys. Then she sat down in a chair and took hold of her guitar.
Silence ... The crowd that had been so rowdy fell completely quiet. Not a single person said a word. And in the upper corner beside a pillar, someone had been watching her the whole time. His eyes remained fixed on her from afar. Who else could it be but the Student Council President?
"Dian will be performing 'A Father's Longing' by Ebiet G. Ade," she announced, looking straight ahead.
"For you, Dad," she whispered softly.
In your eyes, countless memories still remain The blows and hardships carved into your brow You look old and tired, sweat pouring down Yet you remain steadfast, though sometimes you gasp beneath the heavier burden you carry—you still endure
You have come to understand the black and red of this road The wrinkles in your cheekbones are a portrait of your struggle Your shoulders, once broad and darkened by the sun, are now thin and hunched Yet your spirit has never faded; though your steps sometimes tremble, you remain faithful
Father ... in the quiet solitude, I miss you I long to harvest our rice, but longing is all that remains—your child now carries so many burdens.